We set off from Morocco direct to Monastir in Tunisia. The journey was 920 nautical miles, a full week at sea, with nowhere to stop along the Algerian coast. Most people would take the slower route, by hopping up Spain, crossing to the Balearics, moving across to Sardinia, Sicily, and then down to Tunisia. However, this would burn Schengen days that we didn't want to spend and mess up our cruising plans further down the line, so we chose the direct route.
The weather looked good, a strong blow from behind for a day to begin with, then easing off, then another strong blow from behind in the middle, easing off again as we approached the corner of Tunisia, and finally an up wind section as we came around this corner and down to Monastir. The definition of a "strong blow" in this forecast was for winds of high 20 knots gusting high 30 knots. This was nothing more than what we had seen on the way down to Portugal, and we know Vagrant performs really well in these conditions, so all seemed good. However, the wind does not always obey the forecast and we were going to actually get much more than we bargained for.
The first morning was calm and flat and we got some jobs done on board. Phil reactivated the water maker and I got the sewing machine out and made up the Tunisian flag. When the wind did fill in, it was only a little more than expected, with low 30 knots and the occasional gust up into the low 40s. The main issue was dodging the huge number of cargo ships and tankers. This stretch of sea is the main motorway between the Suez canal and the Gibraltar straights. There was a constant stream of big ships in both directions and it took us a while to get through the narrow bit and find some clear water north of the main traffic.
The wind eased off as expected and we spent a very annoying night trying to work our way through endless squalls. There was lightning all around, frequent rain, and the wind would change direction by 90 degrees, die off completely or pick up strength in an instant. To say it was variable was an understatement, and neither of us got much sleep as we were constantly changing our sail plan top match the wind.
The next morning the next "strong blow" arrived in one blast. We had given up on sailing and were motoring in about 9 knots of wind, which suddenly picked up to 24, then 36 in little more than 10 seconds. It was time to get sailing again, so out we went to get the sails up. Whilst we were doing this it continued to build and it was blowing 45 knots with a gust of 52 knots before we had even got the sails sorted. Therefore, having put the main up we took it straight back down and settled for a well reefed genoa sitting out on the pole. This seemed very comfortable. We sat all day with the wind blowing from behind in mid 30 knots gusting into the 40s. The sea built across the day and was easily 5 metres at its peak. The boat coped exceptionally well and we were very comfortable inside.
However, the low pressure that we were riding along the bottom edge off, storm Juliette as we later found out it was now being called, had strengthened and moved a bit further south. The forecast now said low 30s gusting up to 47 knots, still all from behind. Our options to avoid this were limited, turning north would have moved us further into it's path, turning south was not an option as it was the coast of Algeria and turning back would have meant turning into the wind and waves. Running with a storm is a well recognised storm tactic and this was effectively what we were doing, so we carried on with this plan.
That night, virtually to the minute of my watch beginning, the wind picked up again. It began to blow consistently in the 40s and did so for the next 12 hours, and we saw some 50 knot gusts; that is Force 9, gusting 10. Again, inside the boat felt very comfortable - the performance of the Boréal down wind in strong conditions has to be experienced to be believed. We regularly accelerated and surfed down the waves that I thankfully couldn't see at 16 knots and were able to read, sleep, and cook without too much trouble.
We were reminded though of the power of the sea when one, particularly unusual, wave broke over the back of us sending water not just rushing but slamming into the back of the boat. The impact was significant and sent things inside the boat flying. Phil was in his bunk and nearly got smacked in the head with the ditch bag, which would have been deeply ironic. The wave broke an oar on the dingy as this was smashed against the back of the boat, bent the metal bracket holding the spare anchor on the back, and filled one of the lockers and lazarette with about 30 litres of water (we have since improved the seal). This only happened once and we were fine, but it was reminded us that this amount of wind is no joke.
The next morning the wind and the seas eased and we turned to the South East to make for the corner of Tunisia. This put us on a broad reach, which was less comfortable as a point of sail in the swell. We also noticed that the radio VHF antenna had become detached from its bracket at the top of the mast. It was still attached by the wire, and was therefore swinging around freely. Miraculously it was still working. This was handy as we needed to get back across the shipping lanes to get south of the traffic separation scheme off the corner of Tunisia. We do have a second one, running the AIS, and Phil could have worked some electronic magic to route both the AIS and radio through it, but whilst the other one was still working we continued to let it be.
Coming around the corner was probably the most uncomfortable part of the journey as we were beating into 30 knots for a while. We were also back into the shipping lanes at night. The big ships are very comfortable avoiding a collision with only half a mile clearance. I'm sure that this seems fine when you are used to it and you are not dependent on the wind to keep you going in a straight line. Personally, I'm not happy with anything less than a mile and don't properly relax unless the CPA (Closest Point of Approach) is 2 miles or more. The Tunisian coastguard was obviously monitoring the shipping around this corner and contacted us to twice ask our intentions. The first time to gain all the usual information and the second when we tacked and confused them.
Once around the corner the wind drop significantly and we need to start thinking about our time of arrival. Unsurprisingly we were early, having booked the marina from the Saturday, we were due to arrive at about 3am on the Thursday morning. We did not want to arrive in the dark so we kept ourselves well reefed and sailed slowly to lose some time and arrive in the light. In the end we got in at 9 AM and were welcomed by the staff who were very helpful.
Overall it was another quick and successful passage, but it was not a relaxing passage as we had to be on our toes for most of the journey. It is good to know that if we are ever caught in this amount of wind again we can cope, and Vagrant soaks it up, but we will certainly try hard not to repeat the experience by choice.
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